


Shorty

by Denise



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barney and Helen investigate reports of, you guessed it, something odd going on in the Pacific Northwest.</p><p>Notes – this story is a meshing of webbie and show canon. It spawned from the idea given to me by a good friend of mine 'write a story with Barney'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shorty

* * *

DDisclaimer Sanctuary is owned by S3M and lots of folks that aren't me. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands.  This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

 

"Ah, the beauty of the Pacific Northwest," Barney crowed, standing aside to allow Helen to precede him down the steps of the small plane. "I hope I'm dressed right."   She turned her head and frowned at him.  He followed her down the stairs, critically plucking at the red and black plaid flannel shirt he'd purchased earlier that day. "This is what they wear up here, isn't it?"

She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned. "You do realize that this is simply Washington State, not some foreign country."

Behind them the pilot descended the stairs, struggling a bit with the baggage and presumably leaving the co-pilot to finish with the post-flight check list. 

"Anything outside the city limits is a foreign country to me," Barney said.

"Doctor Magnus?" the pilot asked, handing over their baggage. Barney slung his overnight bag over his shoulder and set the other one, obviously and heavily laden with fishing gear, on the ground. "What's our itinerary?"

"Our investigations should be concluded within three days. We will phone you if that changes," she instructed.

"Yes, ma'am." 

The pilot gave a jaunty salute, something Barney was sure his former commanding officer would have seen as blatantly disrespectful and retreated back up the stairs. From past experience, Barney knew that the plane would be back in the air in less than half an hour. The plane, pilot and co-pilot all came courtesy of her contacts and relationships forged during the war and was the latest in Helen's list of acquisitions, her wealth affording her - and them - the luxury of private air travel.  

"You really think we're going to find this critter of yours in three days?" he asked, following her long strides across the tarmac towards the car that was waiting for them.

"Why? Did you not pack enough 'native clothing'?" she teased, handing over her bag to the driver of the car, who placed it and Barney's in the trunk.

He rolled his eyes at her but refrained from responding as they both slipped into the backseat. They chatted about trivialities and banalities, both keenly aware that the driver was not in Helen's employ, thus  needed to think that they were simply a couple of wealthy tourists, spending a couple of days in Seiku, Washington, her taking in the sights while he tried his hand at salmon fishing.

Finally, the driver arrived in front of his office. The three of them got out of the car. "As per the arrangements, a set of keys for each of you," he said, handing over the aforementioned items. "There is also a map in the glove box if you need it."

"Thank you," Helen said, taking the keys and moving to get into the driver's seat.

"What's the plan?" Barney asked as she put the car in gear and they were finally able to speak privately.

"The local sheriff has had several reports of fishermen and hunters being attacked by some sort of large creature," Helen explained, navigating her way towards the town.

"They got any kind of a better description than 'big'?" he asked, his eyes scanning the edges of the road as it wove through the trees.

"Biped, six to eight feet tall, long reddish brown hair," she listed, passing a slower moving vehicle. "Oh, and several witnesses reported a rather...noticeable odor."

"So, big, tall, long haired stinky thing," he condensed. She nodded. "You got any species in mind?"

"Gigantopithecus," she said. "Or perhaps Australopithecus robustus, or Paranthropus eldurrelli," she listed.

"In other words, you have no idea," he said.

She glared at him and shook her head slightly. "My instinct tells me that it is what the Salish term 'Sasquatch'." She glanced at him. "It translates as 'hairy man'."

Barney shrugged. "If the name fits."

"There has been a persistent rumor of there being a conclave of such creatures up on Vancouver Island," she continued.

"How did one get down here?" Barney asked. "I doubt it took the ferry."

"Many large mammals are capable of swimming such distances," she said. "Bears, moose, oxen, caribou, they all can swim quite well." She shrugged. "Perhaps their population has grown and they needed to expand, Vancouver Island, as rich as it is, does only have the ability to support so much wildlife." She glanced over at him. "There is one thing that concerns me, though. These creatures are normally shy and reclusive. They remain a myth and legend because they shun humans. It is quite uncommon for them to attack."

 

They reached the outskirts of the town and Helen navigated her way down Front Street, parking the car in front of the sheriff's office. "I'm going to check in with Sheriff Miller and see if he has any further information to share with us."

Barney nodded and got out of the car, scanning his surroundings. The main street was short, just 3-4 blocks long and he could see - and smell - a local fish market just on the other side of the rail road tracks.  "I'll meet back up with you," he said.  

"Barney?"

"If I'm in town to fish, who better to ask for advice than the locals?" he said, jerking his thumb towards the market.

Helen nodded, recognizing their need to maintain their cover. "If I finish before you do, I will meet you there."

Barney ambled down the street, not having to work too hard to look like he 'wasn't from around here'. The town itself seemed incredibly normal. He saw a post office and general store, along with a couple of clothing boutiques and a beauty salon. Beyond that was a hardware store and a funeral parlor.  Running parallel to Front Street was a rail road line, and beyond that, Clallam Bay, where fishing and logging competed for space in the shallow inlet.

At the edges of the docks he saw tables laden with fruits and vegetables. He purchased a bag of cherries and continued down the dock, munching on his snack. "Those are nice," he said, walking up to a man sitting in his boat, several large salmon spread out on a burlap sack. "Catch them yourself?"

The older man glanced up from the net he was mending. "Just this morning," he said. "You new round here?"

"That obvious? Barney asked. He held out the sack of cherries, offering them to the fisherman.

"Shirt's not even faded," the fisherman said, taking a handful of the fruit.

Barney nodded. "You mind?" He gestured towards the edge of the dock. The fisherman waved his permission and Barney sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. "Wife wants to sight see…look at trees or something," he said dismissively. "Thought I'd actually get something accomplished while we're up here."

"Fishing?" the man asked, spitting a cherry pit into the water.

"The salmon run is legendary," Barney said.

"Sure is," the fisherman agreed, eyeing Barney cautiously.

"You obviously have a good spot," Barney said. "Do you know of any others?" he asked.

"Others?" the fisherman asked.

Barney shrugged. "You're a pro, I can't hope to compete with you or your place, but maybe you know somewhere that a greenhorn like me can catch a couple of fish."

The fisherman relaxed, more at ease now that he knew that Barney wasn't after the man's secret spots.  "You want it really easy, just go up 112 a bit, there's a road that goes over the Hoko River. Easy access, the fish run there pretty good. Just…greenhorn like you, don't go getting yourself too far back in the bush." He studied Barney from head to toe. "You wouldn't last a week in the boonies."

Barney smiled, indicating that he wasn't taking offense. "Not a problem there. I have no intention of becoming a statistic." He looked around and lowered his voice. "Anyway, isn't it kinda dangerous to go too far into the wilderness?"

"I'd take a shotgun for the bears," the fisherman said. "Wolves should leave you alone, unless it's rabid."

"That's good to know," Barney said. "I don't suppose…well…are you here every day?" 

"Usually," the fisherman said cautiously.

"So…if I can't catch any…" he trailed off.

The fisherman chuckled. "Gonna use my fish to fool your wife," he said. Barney shrugged slightly, letting the man draw his own conclusions. "Won't save them for ya, but I won't tell her where you got them either," he conceded.

"Thank you, my friend," Barney said. He handed the man the last of the cherries as he glanced down the dock to see Helen walking towards him. "And I should go now."

The fisherman followed his gaze. "Ah. Yeah, I'd want to go to that too," he said. Barney clambered to his feet and started down the dock. "Don't go too far up river," the fisherman called out and Barney turned back.

"Why not?"

"Just…there's something up there, towards Lake Dickey. Even the injuns from the reservation won't go too deep into the woods," he warned.

"Something?" Barney asked, keeping his expression serious. "You've seen it, haven't you?" He squatted down, hoping that Helen would keep her distance until the man finished his story.

"I used to hunt up there. Where the river turns off to the east. No one goes up there anymore. And the few greenhorns that do, they ain't ever seen again." Barney could hear the tap of Helen's high heels approaching. "You don't wanna go missing when you got that to go home to," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Barney said his good byes and walked back down the dock to meet Helen. "How'd it go?"

"The sheriff was amazingly uncooperative," she said. "I believe I gleaned more information out of the local newspaper."

"We gotta go up river," Barney said.

"Really?"

"If the local Indians avoid it, it sounds promising," he said.

"And, quite coincidentally, I’m sure, that's where some of the hunters reported seeing…something." She looped her arm in Barney's. "I think I'm going fishing with you tomorrow."

 

::::::::::::

 

The morning mist was still rising off the water as the two of them - in their rented motor boat - made their way up the Hoko River. The trees grew relatively close to the rocky shore and occasionally, as the river twisted and turned, he could see shallow sandy beaches created by sediment and smaller rocks washed downstream.

The air was cool and quiet and the roar of their motor almost seemed to be sacrilege. The river was at its summer time low but Barney could occasionally see large snags of logs and debris, testifying that during the spring melt, the Hoko River was likely a raging torrent.

"Do you really think we're going to find this thing by the water?" Barney asked when Helen slowed the boat to navigate around some rocks.

"Well, it needs to drink," she said. "In addition, the fish and shellfish in the river are a good food source. I would think that it's more a gatherer than an outright predator like a bear. The fish could be a vital source of protein."

"Do you know it's not a predator?" he asked. "Or are you just hoping?"

"Nearly every continent has the myth of some sort of giant great ape. If these animals were really such a threat to humans, I think the death toll would be much higher, don't you?"

"If a fur trapper vanished out here, who's gonna know what really killed him?" he shot back. She glared at him. "Look," he said. "This critter is as big and strong as you think he is, he's gonna be a handful. And I doubt he's used to doing anything he doesn't want to do."

"True," she conceded. "However, for all we know this creature is simply acting in response to a threat? Perhaps the hunters were infringing upon its territory or perhaps all it sees is a free meal, and reacts as any creature would to losing said meal."

Barney shook his head, unwilling to argue with her. "Just don't get so busy trying to humanize the thing that you forget it's just as likely some unintelligent critter that can tear you limb from limb without even breaking a sweat," he warned.

 

:::::::::::::::::::::::  
  
  
They motored upstream until the shadows grew deep enough that they threatened Helen's ability to navigate the boat safely. They found a high beach and set up camp for the night, eating a simple meal of canned stew, heated over a fire.

"Worried about wolves?" Helen asked after dinner, as Barney cleaned and loaded his rifle.

"Or bears. Or big hairy critters with bad attitudes," he said. She sighed and sat beside him, her mug of tea cradled in her hands. "What are you going to do when we find this critter?" he asked.

"Perhaps find out why it's here and why it's interacting with humans so much."

"Interacting? That what they're calling it now?" he retorted.

She glanced at him. "When a creature's behavior changes, it changes for a reason."

"Or you're presuming that it has a reason beyond animal instinct."

"It is possible that the growing population of Vancouver Island has forced these creatures to seek out a new habitat. If that's the case, then maybe we can relocate some of them."

"Where?"

"The Canadian interior. There are thousands of square miles with not a human in sight," she said.

"Do you have any idea how much manpower it'd take to move critters like this?" he asked. He looked at her. "Yeah, of course you do."

"You are presuming that these creatures are mindless animals," she said, reviving their debate from earlier.

"And you're presuming that you can invite it in for a cuppa and chat with it and talk it into moving," he shot back.

"Barney, after all these years, do you seriously still question what we do?"

"If I did, I'd have quit twenty years ago," he said. "What I question is you continually endangering your life, trusting these critters, when a good chunk of them would just as soon eat you as look at you." He shrugged. "Someone's gotta protect you from yourself."

"And I can think of no one better than you to do it," she said. "Even though I abhor the term 'critter'." She finished her tea and got to her feet. "I'm going to turn in. Don't stay up all night…and please don't shoot any shadows. The noise will probably startle our quarry."

She smiled and patted him on the shoulder before she retreated into the tent. Barney sat by the fire for a while, both enjoying the quiet of the night and giving Helen enough time to ready herself for bed.  The air was cooling quickly and smelled like a mixture of pine and water, fish and algae. The only sounds he could hear were the gurgling of the river and the crackling of the fire. The light from the fire only carried so far and Barney felt like he was almost in a bubble, surrounded by the blackness of the night, topped with a band of brilliant stars, visible over the river. 

It was beautiful. And peaceful. And it gave a man time to think. And Barney didn't always like where his mind traveled while he thought. They'd done this a lot over the years – he and Helen.  Tracking down critters. Helping them, killing them, finding some new homes. Hell, in some cases they were even dealing with the kids of critters they'd already dealt with.

And Helen hadn't changed a bit since that day she'd recruited him all those years ago.

But he had.

He was on the wrong side of fifty now. And still following her around the world at a time in his life when most of his classmates were contemplating retirement and anticipating their own kids' kids.  He had aches now. Stiff joints in the morning and parts of his body that didn't work as well as they used to.

Helen might not have changed, but he had. And he knew his days were numbered. Not because she'd get rid of him. He knew that would never happen. But he also knew that the day was soon approaching when he'd be no further use to her out in the field. When he'd no longer be able to wrestle a Madagascar winged serpent to the ground. Or even have the reflexes to protect himself – and her – from those critters that just didn't know how to play well with the rest of the world.

His own mortality was creeping up on him and it scared him worse than any critter these woods could produce.

Shaking off his morose thoughts, Barney got to his feet and banked the fire for the night. He retreated into the tent and settled down for the night, his rifle tucked securely within easy reach.

 

:::::::::::

 

He awoke the next morning to the welcome aroma of bacon and coffee. He rolled out of his sleeping bag and groaned softly, stretching to work out the kinks.

He picked up his rifle and stepped outside, waving 'good morning' to Helen before stepping off into the trees. He returned a few minutes later, feeling much relieved and slightly more awake. A quick splash off of his hands and face and he took a seat by the fire, gratefully accepting the mug she held out to him. "You made coffee? What's the occasion?" he asked.

"Who says I need an occasion?" He stared at her and she sighed. "Maybe I want you in a good mood for when I tell you my plans for tracking down our quarry," she said, cradling her own mug of tea.

"If you're bribing me with this, I'm not going to like your idea," he said, well aware of her dislike of the coffee. She tolerated him drinking it; however she often drew the line at making it herself. He set his mug down and reached for the eggs they'd brought with them. He pushed the cooked bacon to the side of the pan and broke the eggs into the grease. They hissed and popped and he placed the pan closer to the fire. "What's your plan?"

"We could search these woods for years and never see a trace of the Sasquatch," she said

"And probably vanish without a trace ourselves," he agreed. 

She nodded. "Every bit of research I've ever heard about these creatures suggests a close association with water. I've even heard of some being seen washing their food before they eat it.

"That's what you said yesterday." He frowned. "Well, not the washing part, but the whole drinking and fishing part."

She nodded again and drank a sip of her tea. "The sandy soil of the beaches is the perfect medium for tracks."

He flipped the eggs. "We're gonna run up and down the river, checking every beach for footprints, ain't we?" he asked.

"A methodical approach seems to be best."

"You realize you're talking weeks of searching for a critter that probably doesn't want to be found."

"With the sightings we've had, it's very possible that this creature will seek us out."

"Yeah. With claws and fangs," he quipped, serving up the eggs and bacon.

"With your rifle, that should be no real threat," she said, taking her plate.

"As harebrained as it is, your plan is probably the best," he said.

They ate their breakfast and then broke down the camp, Helen cleaning the dishes while Barney disassembled the tent. In less than an hour they were again motoring up the river, this time stopping at each sandbar and beach, searching for some sign of their quarry.

 

::::::::::::

 

"Something has been here," Barney called out as they checked their fifth sandbar of the day. This one was large, perhaps fifty yards long and was dotted with driftwood logs, some bleached white from years of exposure. "Dried up salmon carcass," he said, using his foot to nudge the brittle remains. "Must be from the first of the run."

"I have remains as well," Helen called out. "And these are quite fresh." She gingerly picked up the salmon. "There's been no decomposition at all, the blood is still fluid as well. Unfortunately, this area is too rocky for foot prints."

A strong odor wafted across the sandbar and Barney felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.   "Helen!" He cocked his rifle and hurried towards her, his gut instinct drawing him forward.

She sensed the danger herself and dropped the fish, pulling her own pistol as she backed away. A massive hairy bulk lumbered out of the trees, growling angrily. "Don't run!" Barney yelled, cursing his distance. His rifle certainly had the range but he wasn't sure about his aim. And with Helen between him and the massive grizzly, he stood just as much of a chance of hitting her as he did the bear.

Helen froze, her pistol aimed unwaveringly at the beast. It growled and reared onto its back legs, clearly trying to intimidate.

"It probably just wants the fish," Barney said, slowing as he got closer. The bear seemed torn between Helen and the salmon, its giant head moving back and forth as it sniffed the air and huffed harshly.

"I don't think so," she said, not taking her eyes off the bear. She nodded towards the animal and he followed her gaze.

"Rabid?" he asked noting the heavy, frothy drool running down the bear's muzzle.  The bear sniffed the air and fell to all fours. It roared at Helen, its jaws gaping wide. "MOVE!" Barney yelled, aware that his rifle stood a better chance of stopping the beast than her pistol. He fired twice, both shots hitting the bear but it was as if the animal didn't feel it.

If anything, it angered it more and the bear charged, its speed belying its bulk. Helen fired twice, then turned and ran as Barney opened fire again.

Another dark shape hurled onto the beach, tackling the bear and sending both creatures into the water. Barney fired until the magazine was empty and Helen moved to his side as he reloaded.

"What the hell?" he asked, trying to reload his weapon while keeping his eyes on the fight.

"Sasquatch," Helen said. 

"What are the chances that it's rabid too?" Barney asked, cramming bullets into his rifle.

"Let's hope that it's not," she said. "I don't think we can stop two of them."

The two creatures rolled in the water, both growling fiercely as they clawed and snapped at each other.  They seemed evenly matched in one way, the bear's greater bulk countered by the Sasquatch's longer arms and legs. The bear tried to maneuver its powerful jaws to rip out the Sasquatch's throat, but the Sasquatch held it at arms' length.

The Sasquatch raised its foot and kicked the grizzly in the gut, pushing the creature back. "Here!" Helen dashed forward and picked up a club sized chunk of wood. She tossed it towards the Sasquatch and it landed at the creature's feet.

It barely paused in its attack, snapping up the club. The bear charged and the Sasquatch swung the club, striking the creature upside the head with a sickening crunching sound. The bear roared in pain and tried to continue its charge. The Sasquatch stumbled backwards, falling as Barney moved forward, emptying his magazine into the bear's brain.  

The bear fell to the ground, its legs splayed out while Barney struggled to reload, not convinced that it was safe. Helen moved past him, her pistol lowered but still ready. "Helen," he warned.

She raised one hand, silently warning him as she moved towards the Sasquatch.  "Are you all right?" she asked.

It huffed and pushed itself to its feet, struggling to stand. Barney stared in amazement as it towered over Helen. He raised his rifle, ready to send it to the same fate as the bear. "You're hurt," Helen continued. "At least let us help you."

He snorted and pushed her away, taking a few steps before he fell to his knees. Helen holstered her weapon and moved towards the creature, ignoring Barney's warning glare. "You'll die if you stay out here," she said. She nodded towards the bear's carcass. "It won't take the wolves long to scavenge, and you will be easily overcome." She sighed. "If you will not allow us to treat you, at least allow us to assist you back to your own kind. They can care for you until you recover."

"Leave me," the Sasquatch growled, pushing Helen to the ground. He staggered to his feet and loped off into the woods, disappearing in an instant.

"I love it when they're all grateful and stuff," Barney said, helping her up. "Just makes all this so worthwhile." She brushed herself off and moved towards the trees. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I should think my intentions are clear," she said.

"We go in there, we're on his turf."

"If he wanted us dead, we already would be, I think."

Barney sighed. "Into the deep, dark woods we go, hoping Smokey here is the only rabid thing in the area and chasing something that could rip you and me to pieces without breaking a sweat." Barney cocked his rifle. "OK little red riding hood, let's track down your critter."  
   
They made their way into the woods and Barney felt the temperature drop several degrees in the shade of the old growth forest. In just a few yards, the sounds of the river faded and were replaced by an almost oppressive silence. The trees towered overhead and the ground was dotted with massive clumps of ferns. The air was humid and smelled vaguely of mold and rot.

"Here," Barney pointed out a well-worn trail. He led Helen down the trail, intensely aware of just how vulnerable they were. In about a hundred yards the trees thinned and they stepped out into a small clearing.

"This is a surprise," Helen said, staring at a small cabin and out buildings.

"Do sasquatches normally live in cabins?" Barney asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," she said. "However, before today I didn't think that they spoke English either."

"Hello!" Barney called out as they approached the cabin. The front door was open and the Sasquatch loomed in the doorway. Barney tightened his grip on his rifle but didn't raise it, sensing that if they wanted to get into the cabin, they needed his permission.

"We're not going to hurt you," Helen said, making a show of putting her pistol away. 

The Sasquatch growled and refused to move from the doorway. Barney heard a low voice and saw the creature turn his head. "There's someone else in there," he said.  
Grudgingly the Sasquatch moved, retreating back into the cabin. 

"It's not the most gracious invitation, but it is an invitation," Helen said. She climbed onto the small porch and crossed the threshold of the cabin. 

Barney followed her into the building, squinting as his eyes struggled to adjust to the dim interior. The cabin was simply furnished with a bed against each wall, a wooden table in the middle of the room and a potbellied stove against the back wall that it looked like was used for cooking. There was a trunk at the foot of one of the beds and the wooden walls were dotted with various hanging implements and tools. The large bunk of the left was empty, but the one against the right wall was very much occupied.

"Who are you?" a weak voice asked.

"I'm Helen, this is my friend Barney. Whose hospitality are we enjoying this afternoon?"

"Ray. Ray Watson," the man in the bed said. He was sitting on the bed, his back propped against the wall. One leg was held out stiffly and Barney didn't need to be close to diagnose a broken leg. The man's face was scratched and bruised, but the abrasions were all clean, testifying to some level of treatment. "You'll forgive me if I don't get up." He nodded towards the Sasquatch standing in the corner. "He's Shorty."

"Shorty?" Barney glanced at the seven foot tall animal that almost looked like he was crammed into the corner of the room. He could easily reach up and touch the heavy beams that supported the roof.

"It's irony," Ray said. "Ever heard of it?"

"I like sarcasm, it's easier."

Helen glanced back at him, rolling her eyes. She turned back to Ray. "A very good friend of mine is named Watson. Although I doubt the two of you have ever crossed paths. He lives in London."

"I spent a couple of liberties there," Ray said. "Nice place. Although I never did develop a taste for warm beer."

"What unit were you with?" Helen asked.

"101 Airborne."

"You had a tough time of it," she said.

"We were on the front most of the way through Europe," he said. Ray sighed and looked off into the corner of the cabin. "I saw…a lotta stuff. A lotta things that a man should never have to see."

"And you did a lot of things that a man should never have to do," Helen said, reaching out to lay her hand on Ray's arm.

He shook his head slightly as if to banish the memories. "That's why I'm here. Decided to take a little sabbatical from my fellow man."

"Where'd you pick up your friend?" Barney asked.

"Kinda came with the place," Ray said. "When I was building this cabin, I started seeing tracks. Then some of my food would disappear." He shrugged. "I suppose I should have been spooked or something but…he was harmless and as much as I wanted to take a break from people, I didn't mind the company."

"How did you get hurt?" Helen asked. 

"It's my own damn fault," Ray said. "Got too close to a bear, had to run for it. I tripped and busted my leg. Shorty there kept it from having me for dinner."

"Bear's dead," the Sasquatch rumbled.

"Really?" Ray asked.

"Yes, it is quite dead," Helen said. "I'm a physician, do you mind if I check your leg?" He nodded and she moved towards the foot of the bed then gently removed the dressing. "A compound fracture?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"If you're gonna do it, might as well do it big," he said. "Shorty helped me set it."

She pulled up the last of the dressing and Barney felt the tension in the room rise as he and Helen got a good look at the wound. She glanced up at him and Barney shook his head slightly, confirming her diagnosis. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Few days," Ray said. Barney saw him look at Helen and then glance up at Shorty, then look back at her.

 "I don't think it's set correctly, I'm afraid," she said after a minute.

"I was afraid of that," Ray said.

"He needs surgery," Barney said, catching as Helen replaced the dressing. His words were an understatement. Ray did desperately need surgery, but more than a simple resetting of the bone.   
  
"I concur," Helen said. "Mister Watson, we could attempt to reset your leg, but the bone has already begun to knit. The safest way to fix it is under anesthesia in the sterility of an operating theater."

"If Shorty is willing to help, I'm sure we can get him down to the boat," Barney said. "Might be pushing the sunset, but we should be able to get back to town before nightfall."

"What about Shorty?" Ray asked. "I can't just leave him here."

"Can he fend for himself?" Barney asked. "Just for a few weeks while your leg heals."

Ray shook his head. "I am NOT going to leave him behind. He can't stay here anyway; our food stores are running low."

"Of course not," Helen said. "We have a place where he can stay if he wants." She looked over her shoulder. 

Ray nodded. "Whatta you say, Shorty? Go south for the winter?"

Shorty huffed. "You go, I go," he said.

"Glad that's settled," Barney said, setting his rifle down. "I'll go and see if I can find something to rig up a splint. It'll make traveling easier on you." He looked at the Sasquatch. "Shorty, wanna give me a hand?"

 

::::::::::

 

Helen waited until Barney and Shorty were out of ear shot before she turned back to Ray. "You need more than a simple resetting of the bone," she said.

"Infection's bad, isn't it?" Ray asked.

"It is," she confirmed.

"I thought so." He painfully shifted his position. "I saw enough wounded in Europe." He held up a small leather pouch that he wore around his neck. "Shorty gave me this, some sort of medicine bag. Swore it'd cure me, and I didn't have the heart to tell him I don't buy into that mumbo jumbo."

Helen shrugged. "I've sometimes seen 'mumbo jumbo' work quite well. Regardless, we can take you back and operate on your leg. We can try antibiotics. If they do not clear it up, we do have the worst case scenario of amputation. But we need to start treatment, sooner, rather than later."

Ray nodded. "Yeah." He looked at Helen. "Do you really have somewhere Shorty can stay?"

"Can he go back to his own kind?" she asked.

Ray shook his head. "I don't know why, but he told me that he can't go back. Said he's not wanted."

Helen nodded. "In that case, yes, I do. It's called the Sanctuary. It is a place for creatures like Shorty – we call them abnormals – to seek refuge."

"Good." Ray leaned his head back against the wall, seemingly exhausted. "So, if things go FUBAR…"

"He will have a home as long as he wants it," she promised. 

 

::::::::::

 

"It looks like you can add 'intensely loyal' to the character profile of a Sasquatch," Barney said as he joined Helen at the window.

"Apparently," she said, glancing over at him. "Any luck?"

Barney shook his head. "I found a couple of them on the island – largely because I think they got tired of watching me stumble around. They wouldn't tell me why he's not welcome, but he's definitely not." Barney nodded towards the window. "He been out there the whole time?"

"Day and night for the past two weeks," she answered.

The Sasquatch was visible in the distance, sitting at the foot of a freshly dug grave. A small cemetery occupied the far corners of the Sanctuary grounds, a final resting place for those that had nowhere else to go – or whose corpses would be most problematic if uncovered.  Once he knew he wasn't going to recover, that the infection was simply too much and too widely spread to be stopped, Ray had requested to be buried there, a request Helen had no problem granting.

"He hasn't moved since the service," she said. "I left him some water, but I don’t think he's drunk any."

"Two weeks? That's some fortitude," Barney said.

"He helped us transport Mister Watson all the way here and stood vigil during his surgery and recovery before he even mentioned that you had shot him – several times," she said. "And he refused even a local anesthesia while I removed the bullets. Fortitude is not something I think he lacks."

Barney shrugged. "He's not going to stay out there forever, is he?"

"No, he's not," Helen declared.

She pushed open the French door and walked outside. Her stride was purposeful and Barney had to jog for a few steps to catch up. It took them just moments to cross the lawn. 

"Shorty! You gonna spend the rest of your life communing with nature or are you going to come inside?" Barney asked loudly when they were within about twenty feet of the Sasquatch.

"And you wonder why you have so few friends," Helen said, frowning at him.

"I'm sure it has nothing to do with living in a house that's half zoo," he replied.

She glared but her reply never left her lips as the Sasquatch got to his feet, moving stiffly. He paused for a moment, towering over both of them before stepping in front of Barney. "Do not call me Shorty," he rumbled. "Only Ray can call me Shorty."

"Very well," Helen said, putting herself between the two of them. "What should we call you then?"

The Sasquatch looked at her and huffed. "You need help," he declared. He stepped around them and slowly walked towards the house.

"Barney, I do believe that we have a new house guest," Helen said, looping her arm in his.

"Giant walking carpet, just what this menagerie needs," he said, laying his hand over hers as they followed the Sasquatch into the Sanctuary. "I just hope he doesn't shed."

 

~Fin~


End file.
